


It's Classified

by WindyInTheWillows



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: "AU", "high school", Academy, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Mortal, Alternate Universe - No Gods (Percy Jackson), Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Annabeth Chase & Piper McLean Friendship, Boarding School, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Espionage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, POV Alternating, POV Annabeth Chase, POV Percy Jackson, Secret Identity, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:15:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindyInTheWillows/pseuds/WindyInTheWillows
Summary: Annabeth is top in her class at a training academy for CIA spies. Her world is shaken up with the arrival of a new student, Percy Jackson—an arrogant airhead whom Annabeth loathes at first sight. Annabeth has always dreamed of going out on a mission, but when she finally gets her wish, her assignment is with Percy. And they're going undercover to a civilian high school.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Nico di Angelo & Will Solace
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. of new students and nectarines

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Guys! This story is a revamping of something I published a way long time ago. I started with this idea almost three years ago, and didn’t really ever follow through with it. I stumbled across it a few weeks ago, though, and was excited to maybe start up again. Now I’m back and (hopefully) better than ever! Now, after doing a little more planning and hopefully having gained much more writing proficiency over the past few years, I’m ready to get it up off the ground again. So, here is the first chapter, with a healthy dose of Gallagher Girls inspiration and some thoroughly google-translated Portuguese, in all its glory. Let me know what you think with a review, and enjoy!

Before lunch, Annabeth’s day was shaping up to be pretty darn average. Well, as average as one could expect a day to be for a seventeen-year-old girl attending Long Island Academy of Arts and Sciences. She had started her morning running counter surveillance exercises in  _ Escape and Evasion  _ class, and aced a quiz on Saudi Arabian dining customs during second period. She popped into her  _ Cryptography  _ classroom around noon to hand in her translated copy of their most recently assigned code, and made it to the dining hall just before lunch would be served. She could never have known how unaverage her day was about to become. 

The Long Island Academy of Arts and Sciences might sound like any other, run-of-the mill east coast private school; indeed, it was marketed as such. Outsiders know it to be no more than a supremely elite and highly selective boarding school. Yet, situated in a secluded bay on the Long Island Sound, the academy’s high, ivy-covered walls hide much more than what meets the eye. The titular “arts and sciences” taught to the academy’s students were not those of playing the cello and microbiology, but rather the art of deception and the science of codebreaking. The Long Island Academy of Arts and Sciences was, in fact, a school for spies. 

So, as Annabeth sat down beside her best friend and fellow agent-in-training, Thalia Grace, she greeted her not in English, but in Portuguese—the assigned “dining hall language” of the week.

“ _ Você sabe o que é o almoço hoje _ ?” she asked, plunking her bag down on the table. 

Thalia scooted over to make room for Annabeth to sit, and replied, saying that she did not know what was being served for lunch that day, and that Annabeth would do well to brush up on her Portuguese pronunciation. Annabeth stuck her tongue out in retort, and sat down. Before the two friends could even strike up a conversation, though, they were interrupted by someone calling out their names from a few tables down, completely forgoing the Portuguese assignment.

“Annabeth! Thalia! You’ll never guess what just happened!”

A kid with curly hair and a rasta cap slid into a chair across from them with such energy that it screeched several feet across the hardwood floor. Sheepishly pulling himself back to the table and righting his cap on his head, Grover Underwood leaned in with an excited glint in his eyes. 

“So, I was in Programming and Systems Analysis, right?” Grover had to pause to catch his breath, apparently having run all the way from the Herman building. 

Programming and Systems Analysis was just the fancy, curriculum title for hacking, and it was Grover’s best subject. He was a technological genius. 

His breaths slowing to a more average rate, Grover went on. “Anyways, so, we were meant to be working on some passkey encryption project, but I finished that ages ago, so I was messing around with the firewalls that protect the security camera feeds. I’ve never gotten past them before, but today must have been my lucky day, because I usually can’t even access any of the source code, but when I tried approaching from a veiled VPN-”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what a VP-whatever is,” Thalia said, also abandoning the assigned language, and spooning portions of the newly-arrived salad onto her plate. “Can you just get to the point?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Grover’s fingers danced over the tabletops in excitement. “So, I got onto the camera feed, and you’ll never guess what I saw.”

“You said that, “ Thalia grumbled. “If we’re never going to guess, how about you just tell us then?”

Just as Grover was opening his mouth to reply, the doors of the dining hall burst open, and one hundred heads swiveled at once to face them. Mr. Chiron Brunner, head of the Academy, sat in his wheelchair in the foyer, accompanied by a tall, teenage boy whom Annabeth had never seen before. As the pair of them walked into the dining hall, flanked by Academy security, the light illuminated the boy’s face. 

Thalia whistled. “Dang. That is not a bad looking guy, eh Annie?”

Annabeth frowned. “He looks annoying. And don’t call me Annie.”

The boy was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt—decidedly  _ not _ the school uniform—but he didn’t seem to be wearing a visitor’s badge either. He ran a hand through his disheveled black hair, and his eyes roved the room, as if he was sizing up the place. For a moment, they met with Annabeth’s, but she immediately realized she must have been staring, and snapped her gaze back down to her lap. 

A low hum of whispered conversations reverberated around the hall. Outsiders were never allowed within Academy walls, and he was too young to be a visitor from the agency, but he couldn’t be a student. Students were admitted very rarely, and only under extremely specific circumstances. Annabeth’s own admission had been under even more unusual circumstances than what was standard, but that was beside the point. It was already one month into the school year, and judging by the boy’s height and his lean, muscular build, he was around her age. Even with the right qualifications, Annabeth had never heard of a student being admitted after tenth grade, and she was entering her senior year. 

Annabeth saw Mr. Brunner whisper something into the boy’s ear, and the boy nodded. He shook hands with the headmaster, and began to pick his way through the mess of tables and chairs in the dining hall. He passed several tables full of students, and if he noticed that everyone he passed was staring at him in silence, he didn’t let on. He didn’t sit down, either, despite walking by several empty seats. It took Annabeth a few seconds to realize that he was walking toward someone in particular. That someone in particular seemed to be her. 

_ Oh no you don’t,  _ Annabeth thought to herself. Her suspicions were confirmed when the boy caught her glance again and smirked. She didn’t like the way that smug played across his face, slanting his chiseled jawline and oozing the exact sort of cocky attitude she expected from him. She wasn’t sure what had made her dislike him so much before even hearing him talk, but she  _ was  _ sure. 

Annabeth was broken out of her contemplation by the sound of the boy pulling a chair up next to Grover, directly across from her. The mischievous smile still plastered across his face, he dropped into it. 

“You,” he said, leaning across the table and looking right at Annabeth. “Were staring at me.”

“I was not.” Annabeth glared at him.

The boy grabbed a nectarine from her plate, took a huge bite of it and grinned. “Were too. I’m Percy, by the way. I’m new.”

Annabeth pulled her plate away from Percy. “New? Really? Couldn’t have guessed.”

Thalia elbowed her. “Nice to meet you Percy, I’m Thalia. This is Annie, who clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“I’m Grover,” Grover said, looking confused. Annabeth was pretty sure she knew why; it wasn’t every day that Thalia was the one injecting politeness into the conversation, and to be honest, Annabeth wasn’t sure where it came from either. 

“My name isn’t Annie,” Annabeth said, giving Thalia a stink eye. “It’s  _ Annabeth. _ ”

“Oh, so you’re Annabeth?” Percy asked, leaning back in his chair. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annabeth asked, dropping her begrudging tone, betrayed by her genuine curiosity. 

“Chi–I mean, Mr. Brunner told me about you,” Percy said. “We’re meant to go to his office together after lunch.”

Annabeth straightened. “You didn’t feel the need to mention that earlier?”

“You were too busy glowering at me.”

Annabeth huffed, and stabbed at her salad with a fork. 

“What’s up with this  _ salad _ ?” Percy asked after a moment’s silence. “Don’t they feed us any real substance here?”

Annabeth didn’t love salad herself, but she suddenly felt the need to defend it. 

“Quinoa  _ is  _ substantial,” she retorted. “Anyways, it’s Meatless Monday. We’re having chicken caesar wraps tomorrow.”

Grover, who was munching on Thalia’s leftovers, perked up at this. “Meatless mondays are the only good days for vegetarians. The rest of the days we get soggy pasta salad and bland bean burgers.”

“Here’s a thought,” Percy replied through a mouthful of leaves, having just snagged his own bite from Thalia’s plate. “Don’t be a vegetarian.”

Annabeth thought that was pretty rude, but Grover and Thalia both laughed, and she thought it best not to push it, if only for her friends’ sake. 

“Hmph. If I had known chicken caesar wraps was this school’s idea of a substantial meal, I wouldn’t have accepted this deal.”

“Deal?”

“What deal?”

“Why are you even here?”

Thalia, Grover and Annabeth all spoke at once. 

Percy grinned. “I’m a new student. Everyone has to be a new student at some point, don’t they?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Not four weeks into senior year, they don’t.”

“Well, here I am.”

“You know, everybody is going to ask you these same questions. You’re going to have to fess up at some point.”

Percy didn’t answer, and avoided her gaze. “Everyone’s leaving. We shouldn’t keep Mr. Brunner waiting. ”

“I still don’t know what this meeting is about,” Annabeth said. 

“Yeah, well you’ll never know if you don’t get a move on. Let’s go!”

He stood up, and pushed in his chair. Annabeth moved to follow, but Thalia grabbed her elbow before she could stand. 

“You’ll tell us everything, right?” she whispered in Annabeth’s ear. 

“Of course,” Annabeth replied, smiling. “As soon as I get out of there.”

Thalia smiled back, and let go of her elbow. Annabeth hurried to catch Percy, who already had one foot out the door. 


	2. of parables and paradoxes

_ Chapter Two _

**OF PARABLES AND PROGRAMS**

Annabeth and Percy didn’t speak as she led him across the marble-floored foyer. Or rather, Annabeth didn’t speak to Percy. He didn’t shut up. 

“Why do you have suits of armor?” he asked, stopping to peer through the slits in the visor of a silver-plated knight. “Sounds awfully loud for spying.”

He didn’t seem to mind that Annabeth forged on ahead, without slowing or acknowledging his question. He jogged to catch up, but became immediately distracted by a pair of silver swords mounted on the wall.

“Are these real?” He reached out to touch one of their points, and immediately withdrew his hand with a wince of pain. “Yup! Definitely real.” 

Annabeth rolled her eyes and continued walking. She couldn’t imagine how anyone with this poor of an attention span could ever be a good enough spy to warrant such late admission to the academy. In an effort to maintain some image of indifference, though, she didn’t ask. 

“Hey! Annie!” Percy called out, having stopped again to examine a glass case which held a twentieth century cipher machine. “What’s this?”

Annabeth’s annoyance at the nickname was overcome the sheer need to  _ explain  _ which she always felt whenever she held some knowledge that others did not. 

“It’s an electro-mechanical stream cipher machine,” she said. “Ever heard of the Enigma machines?”

Percy nodded. “Those German code machine-things, right? From World War II?”

“Yeah, well, this is Enigma’s more advanced American counterpart,” Annabeth replied. “They called it the  _ Parable. _ ”

“The Parable? Never heard of it.

__ “You’ve never heard of it because it was never declassified. As far as we know, no one has ever cracked the Parable’s ciphers. We still use it sometimes, but it’s embedded in a more modern software system nowadays. This is just the original device. It was de-”

Annabeth cut herself off, noticing that Percy was no longer listening to a word she said. His eyes had wandered away from the glass case in front of him, and were a bit glazed over, staring absently at a portrait hanging on the wall behind Annabeth’s head. 

“Alright, let’s get a move on,” she said, grabbing Percy by the arm. “We’ve got a meeting to get to.”

\--

“So, Ms. Chase, I’m sure you are presently wondering as to the reason for which I requested for presence here,” Mr. Brunner said, looking her in the eyes from across his desk. “And also for the reason behind the sudden appearance of our new friend here, Mr. Jackson.”

Annabeth nodded, but didn’t reply. She had known Mr. Brunner for a long time, and usually would have already started pestering him to just get on with it already, but something about the atmosphere of his office made her hesitate. A tension hung in the air, it’s pressure almost palpable, as if both Percy and Mr. Brunner knew about something that was coming, and she didn’t. Anxious to know what was going on, she stayed quiet.

“As Mr. Jackson may have already explained to you,” Mr. Brunner continued. “He has recently been admitted to our academy. I will spare you the details of the circumstances, but I assure you, they were worthy of bending our admission policies. I assure you, he is more than capable.”

“I wouldn’t have questioned it, Sir,” Annabeth said, keeping her tone even.

Mr. Brunner gave her a knowing look, as if he saw straight through that response. 

“This is an unusual situation,” Mr. Brunner admitted. “We haven’t sent students into the field since the Newark incident in 1943. But, as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Annabeth took a moment to process his words. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

Mr. Brunner’s eyes stayed heavy, but he was able to crack a small smile. “Yes, Ms. Chase. It seems your dreams may come true sooner than you expected.”

Annabeth could hardly believe her ears. It had been ten years since she arrived at the academy, and she liked the school—it was basically her home, after all. But ten years behind its ivy-covered walls with no more than a few short field trips each year had weighed on her. All operatives-in-training itched to get out into the field, but for Annabeth, the yearning was even stronger.

“So, I’m sure you have both heard of the recent string of homicides which have been plaguing upstate New York.” Mr. Brunner’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “We have received recent intelligence which strongly suggests they may be connected to something much, much bigger. Possible ties have been made to money laundering, robberies, kidnappings and other homicides across the country.”

Mr. Brunner paused for a moment, but neither of them said anything, even Percy. Annabeth figured he must be as in the dark as she was on this information and was equally eager to hear more.

“We haven’t been able to connect it to any known criminal organizations,” Mr. Brunner continued. “But word on the street in the intelligence community is that they’re planning something catastrophic. Every agency on the block wants a piece of this investigation, but even with sharing intelligence, the data has too many holes for a traceable lead. Nobody even knows where to begin.”

“Except us, I suppose,” Percy said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on Mr. Brunner’s desk.

“Right you are.” Mr. Brunner nodded. “Alas, I am not the one who should be going over the details. There is a car waiting by the West Gates, I won’t be accompanying you. I ask you to do your best to make a good impression, please. I told Reyna you would be able to do this, so don’t make a fool of all three of us.”

“Reyna? Who’s Reyna?” Percy asked.

Annabeth didn’t know who Reyna was either, but that didn’t seem too important at the moment. “Do you mean we’re…is the car taking us…Langley?”

“No, child,” Mr. Brunner said. “Not Langley. The CIA has a clandestine facility over in Hudson Valley. There, Reyna will explain everything. I would guess you will return to the academy to collect your things, but I may not see you again before you set off. I wish you luck, although I pray you won’t need it.”

“Right now? Like right now, right now?” Annabeth asked.

“It is rather short notice,” Mr. Brunner said. “And for that, I apologize. We would never ask you to do this if it wasn’t so direly important.”

Annabeth and Percy sat in silence, trying to process everything.

“Should we get going?” Annabeth asked.

“Yes.” Mr. Brunner wheeled himself around his desk to open the door for them. “One last thing: if you pass anyone on your way out, please don’t tell them where you’re going. This is all meant to be kept rather under the radar, if you know what I mean.”

“Of course, sir,” Annabeth replied.

“Not even Ms. Grace or Mr. Underwood,” he said, a knowing look in his eyes. “This is a crucial matter of national security, understand?”

“Yes sir,” Annabeth said, smiling a little. He knew her too well. “Let’s go, Percy.”

The bell tower chimed ten o’clock just as they were heading into the foyer, which meant classes had just ended. Students flooded out of the classrooms and into the halls.

They were almost to the stairwell leading down to the West Gates when a voice called out from behind them. “There you guys are!”

Annabeth groaned, and turned to see Thalia pushing upstream through the crowd of students.

“I did not want to have to do this,” Annabeth muttered. “What should I say?”

Before Percy could reply, Thalia reached them. “I was beginning to think you’d been kicked out, Annie!”

Percy gave Annabeth a significant look.

“Um, Thalia?” Annabeth looked at her friend with a sad expression. “I know you’re joking, but…”

“What?” Thalia nearly dropped her bag. “Are you messing with me right now?”

Annabeth didn’t reply, but apparently her expression got the message across.

“No freaking way, Annabeth. You’re the best trainee in the class, and…and you’ve never done anything that could get you expelled. I’m going to Mr. Brunner right now to know some sense into that old–”

Annabeth grabbed her friend’s arm before she could march back down the hall. “Thalia, no. I appreciate it, but it’s a done deal.”

“What happened?”

Annabeth bit her lip. “I…I can’t say.”

Thalia’s eyes narrowed, and she turned to Percy. “This is your fault, isn’t it?”

She approached him, a threatening look in her eyes. “You, know Jackson, I thought you were pretty cool. I guess even I have to be wrong about people sometimes.”

Percy backed up, looking nervous. Annabeth knew why; she had been on the receiving end of that stare a few times.

Annabeth was all for letting Thalia have at him, but she knew they needed to get to the car. “Thalia, it has nothing to do with him.”

Thalia was nose to nose with Percy now. “I swear, if I find out you had any part in this, you will wish you were never born. And I will find out.”

For a moment, Annabeth wasn’t sure what Percy was going to do. Then he broke out into a grin.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “I’ll call you if I hear anything.”

Thalia huffed. “Annabeth, I have to get to class. Come find me before you leave, though. Promise?”

Annabeth grimaced. “I’ll try my best. Thals.”

To her surprise, she found herself blinking back tears. She hated to leave Thalia like this—with the arguing, and the lies. They had been best friends since their first days at the academy, and what if this mission, or whatever it was, was dangerous? What if she never saw Thalia again?

Annabeth pushed these thoughts aside. She needed to compartmentalize—whenever this whole thing was sorted, she could deal with Thalia. She had orders from Mr. Brunner, and she needed to follow through.

“Come on Percy,” she said, her voice cracking a bit. She hoped no one heard. “Let’s go.”

\--

Percy and Annabeth spent the several hours’ drive in silence. They passed through the city, into the suburbs, and then drove on into what seemed like the middle of nowhere. Finally, the building appeared in the distance. As they grew closer, Annabeth saw what looked like a high tech manufacturing plant. It was huge, and all white, with lots of blue-tinted windows and surrounded by an incredible amount of security. Several gates and guardhouses separated them from the building, and cameras swiveled from the corner of every wall, and Annabeth guessed that was just a sliver of what was protecting this place. 

“This seems...conspicuous,” Annabeth mused. 

Percy stared out the window. “Agreed. How is this clandestine?”

As the car neared the first set of wrought-iron gates, Annabeth could make out a few giant blue words across the top of the building.  _ Boehman Manufacturing.  _ So maybe it looked so much like a manufacturing plant because it was supposed to be a manufacturing plant. That made sense. 

Percy seemed to have noticed the same thing. “What is Boehman?”

“Never heard of it,” Annabeth replied. “Maybe it’s made up.”

“Hm. Maybe.”

They were driven by the agency vehicle through several security checkpoints, and then around the building to be dropped off at what appeared to be a service entrance. Maintenance workers were unloading boxes from a truck onto carts, which were being pushed up a ramp to a door which was held open by a cinder block. Standing at the base of the ramp was a woman who looked quite out of place among the bustle coverall-clad workers. She was tall, and her neatly pressed slacks and crisp white blouse were effortlessly stylish. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder in a thick braid, and her brown eyes were intense. She looked, at the same time, the picture of beauty and elegance, and like she could kick anyone’s butt at any given time.

As they approached, she held out her hand. “You’re Chase and Jackson?”

Annabeth nodded, taking the woman’s hand to shake it.

“Nice to meet you both,” she said. “I’m Reyna, head of the Jupiter Program, and your new handler.”

“Oh, so you’re Reyna! Mr. Brunner told us about you,” Percy said. “Why couldn’t we go through the front door?”

Annabeth winced, expecting Reyna to get angry with him for asking such a direct and poorly timed question. Reyna just smiled, though.

“Yes, I am Reyna. And, as for the…secrecy, I’m sure Mr. Brunner made clear the nature of this operation?”

“He didn’t make clear much of anything,” Annabeth grumbled.

“Ah, I see,” Reyna said, leading the way up the ramp. “Well, as you’ll find out, this operation is sensitive, to say the least. We can’t have you guys parading through the main building without risking questions.”

The walkway wasn’t solid, but rather a sort of steel grate, with large holes in between the strips of metal. Reyna wore spikey stilettos that could have easily slipped through the gaps, but she seemed thoroughly unfazed. Annabeth was impressed.

“If you’ll follow me,” Reyna said. “I’ll take you to my office. Do your best to look inconspicuous.”

Annabeth was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was wearing the Academy uniform. Percy was in jeans, which didn’t quite match the corporate dress code either, but it wasn’t quite so obvious as a plaid skirt and a blazer emblazoned with the Academy crest.

Reyna seemed to notice Annabeth’s concern. “Don’t worry, we probably won’t see anyone.”

Annabeth slipped the blazer off and folded it over her arm, just in case.

They trailed behind Reyna through the storage warehouse and into a linoleum-floored hallway. They followed a maze of corridors and climbed several flights of stairs before finally slipping into an elevator. Reyna pushed the button for floor twelve, and the doors slid shut. The elevator came to a stop at floor eight. Annabeth held her breath, and watched Reyna, wondering if this was going to be a problem. Reyna didn’t look worried, but she was staring intently at the doors.

They slid open slowly to reveal a tall man wearing a dark blue suit, with stiffly-gelled hair and a strong build. He looked like he meant business. He moved to walk on to the elevator, but as soon as he caught a glimpse of its occupants, he turned around and walked in the opposite direction. The doors slid shut again.

“Um…what was that about?” Percy asked.

“That was the DCS,” Reyna said. “Thor Fulger.”

“DCS,” Percy replied. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Director of Clandestine Services,” Annabeth said. “He’s basically in charge of the CIA. What is he doing in New York?”

“This is one of our most important facilities,” Reyna said. “Second only to Langley. He spends almost as much time up here as he does down in D.C.”

Percy still looked confused. “Hold on. So, if we’re not supposed to be here, why did he see us and just walk away like that?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. She thought it was pretty obvious .

“We’re not supposed to be here, officially,” she guessed, looking at Reyna for confirmation.

She nodded. “Fulger knows about this operation, he just can’t officially sanction it. He doesn’t love the idea, to be honest, but he trusts me enough to give us a chance. But as far as records go? He has no idea what’s going on.”

Percy folded his arms. “Give us a chance at what, exactly?”

Before Reyna could answer, the elevator dinged. The doors opened on what seemed to be a room that filled the entire floor. The far wall was entirely windows, and the floor was covered in desks and glass dividers. Screens covered the wall to their right, and to their left was an elevated platform, boxed in with tinted glass. Annabeth figured that would be Reyna’s office.

“Welcome to my department,” Reyna said. “The Jupiter Program.”

Annabeth ran her hand along a mahogany tabletop. “I’ve never heard of the Jupiter Program.”

Reyna grinned. “Good. We try to keep it that way. We’re a clandestine enforcement division of the Domestic Intelligence Division.”

Percy picked up a pen from a desk and started tapping it against his thigh. “Why is it called the Jupiter Program?”

“That’s a fascinating story,” Reyna said. Percy and Annabeth waited for her to go on, but she didn’t elaborate.

“Where did everyone go?” Percy asked, picking up a half empty cup of coffee from a desk.

Annabeth looked around and saw that all of the desks were covered with papers, coats were draped over chairs, and laptop screens were awake. But there wasn’t a soul in sight.

“I told everyone we were cleaning the carpets at one, and they should all head home early for the day,” Reyna said. “The less people who know about this, the better. Come into my office; we should get started.”

  
  
  



	3. of caddies and conspiracies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Long time no update, I know. I promise I didn’t forget about this story. I’ve just been struggling to get through a single iteration of this chapter without starting over, and I never had enough time on my hands to focus on getting it done. But hey—now I’ve been living under a COVID stay at home order for three months, so I have absolutely no excuse. Still, this is a bit of a mess. This is the chapter that lays the groundwork for the “mission’, so it’s very important and I didn’t really think it through as well as I thought I did before starting, so I have not been able to figure out what to include and what to leave out. Since I’m apparently allergic to both planning and concision, I told myself I should just write SOMETHING and get on with it. So, does this chapter break every “show not tell” rule in the book? Yes. Should I have edited this a lot before posting it? Definitely. Does it all make a ton of sense, seeing as I indulged in pages of straight exposition to set it up? Absolutely not. But, like I said, I need to get on with it. This chapter is two years overdue, so I admitted semi-defeat and wrote the best I could in a couple of sittings. Sorry to spend so much time qualifying what’s to come, but I am very self-conscious putting out work that I’m not very proud of. But you don’t need to hear about that! Without further ado…chapter 3!

At a school for spies, observation was the name of the game. Teachers at the Long Island Academy for Arts and Sciences regularly quizzed students by asking them to close their eyes and answer a range of questions, from the number of windows in the room to the exact color of a classmate’s socks. Before entering Three-Level training, students were required to spend a month studying under a Buddhist-monk-turned-CIA-operative, learning meditation techniques in order to compartmentalize their minds and maintain a constant calculation of their surroundings.

Annabeth had spent more years than many at the academy and, among other things, she had sharp eyes and unusual perceptiveness to show for it. As Reyna pushed open the door to her office, Annabeth had already begun her mental reconnaissance.

Her first thought was that the immediately apparent messiness of the office struck an oddly incongruous note with the woman who had ushered them inside. The crisp pleats of Reyna’s pants and the perfect alignment of every hair tucked into the braid falling over her shoulder suggested a person with a spotless desktop and a color-coordinated filing system, not a desk covered edge to edge in open files or a teetering collection of used coffee mugs.

But Annabeth was trained to look for details, and the details told a different story. The room’s permanent shelves were lined with neatly stacked reference books and labeled file boxes, while the haphazard mix of paper packets and manila folders seemed to come from the mass of crates sitting on wheeled carts along the far wall. The pinboard was covered in what looked like a year’s worth of forgotten sticky notes, but Annabeth knew from experience that the little squares’ adhesive lasted mere days on any textured surface before fluttering to the ground, dry and sticky-less. Though she counted twelve coffee mugs and three takeout boxes sitting around the room, none of them had accumulated any dust or odor, or bore any sign of having been abandoned for days on end.

Clearly, this wasn’t the usual state of things in the office—something had happened. Something big, and recent, had come crashing unexpectedly across Reyna’s desk only to take up a thoroughly unwelcome residence in Reyna’s entire life.

Reyna’s eyes seemed to follow Annabeth’s around the room. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. Things have been developing at such a fast pace, there hasn’t been time for…well, you can see.”

Percy had picked up a chopstick from one of the takeout boxes and was twirling it between his fingers. “So, like, what do you mean by _things_?”

Annabeth cringed slightly at the impertinence of Percy’s tone, and the casual indifference of his entire demeanor, but her overwhelming curiosity kept her from setting a better example. “The rest of the department seems normal. Half of the desks down there look like they haven’t been touched for days. Is this something you’re working on alone?”

Reyna smiled dryly. “Chiron—pardon, Mr. Brunner said you had a discerning eye. I see he wasn’t overselling.”

Annabeth bit her tongue to keep from grinning. Mr. Brunner was notoriously sparing in his praise of students, but she would have felt a little silly letting on how pleased she was to hear this passing comment. “You know Mr. Brunner?”

“Yes, I’m an Academy graduate myself. Anyhow, I’ll explain everything soon, but first we need to take care of some logistics.”

As Reyna spoke, Annabeth watched her eyes. They never stayed still, roving around the room and flicking toward every whiff of movement. It was subtle enough, the movements almost imperceptible, and any other Eight-Level student might have missed it, but Annabeth had been surrounded by spies her whole life. She knew what people were like when they came back from the field; it left something different in everyone, but there were always the eyes. The eyes that never left the streets behind, never stopped double and triple checking corners or cataloguing every passing face and car window. Reyna couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Annabeth, but it was plain: Reyna wasn’t just a paper-pusher with a fancy degree and a nominal title. Reyna was the real deal.

“Before I give you any details, I need to know that you’re in,” Reyna said. “I need you to know that what we’re doing is dangerous. It’s without precedent, it’s breaking about a hundred laws, twice that many agency rules and a healthy serving of international codes. If you want out, just say so and I’ll let you go back to school, no questions asked. But I need to know now, and I need you to know that this is important. I need you to trust that I wouldn’t have pulled you here if it weren’t important.”

Annabeth shifted on her feet. She trusted Reyna—was drawn to her, almost inexplicably—but this was never how she had imagined getting her first assignment. Spy craft was all about finding the greyest area in the margins of the rules and the rights of the world, and this sounded like the dictionary definition of grey. But it was also about knowing the situation inside out and backwards before stepping into it, and Annabeth was all in the dark.

“I’m in,” Percy shrugged, picking up the takeout box that the chopstick had been sitting on. “Can I finish this?”

Reyna ignored him, turning to Annabeth instead. In that moment, Annabeth felt her resolve harden. She had waited more than a decade for this opportunity, and she had been prepared to wait several years more as she jumped through hoop after hoop of training and qualification. But here it was, staring her in the face, earlier than she ever could have dreamed. There was no real choice in the matter.

Annabeth swallowed. “I’m in.”

“Good,” said Reyna. “Have a seat. What has Mr. Brunner told you both?”

Annabeth pulled a chair underneath herself and sat down. “Not much. Just that they think the upstate homicides are tied to something worse, and that agencies around the block are scrambling to wedge themselves into it.”

“That’s true,” Reyna said, her tone suggesting there was much more to the story. “But the other agencies don’t know the half of it. They’re seeing a lot of high-profile cases tied to a potential, domestic money laundering ring. The DC intelligence bureaucrats love this stuff—easy takedowns and bag a few corporate enemies at the same time.”

“I never passed high school English, so maybe I’m wrong,” Percy said, setting aside the takeout. “But aren’t _you_ a DC intelligence bureaucrat?”

Annabeth did not understand this guy, and not just because she didn’t know a single thing about him. The orders to send him out on this case must have come from someone sitting behind a very important desk; it was decidedly _not_ standard procedure for academy students to arrive for their first day at spy school and then be sent out on a mission within a single span of daylight. She figured he must have some skill set that would be needed but, as far as she could tell, that skill could not be well-honed spycraft. Either Percy was utterly incapable of reading the people and situations around him, or he had perfect awareness and didn’t care enough to modify his behavior accordingly. Neither of those traits made for a good spy. Nor did never having passed high school English, for that matter.

But Reyna seemed too preoccupied to be bothered by Percy’s disregard.

“You’re right, I suppose. But I like to think I have my priorities a little straighter than your average high-salaried desk jockey. And trust me, we’ve got a surplus of those in this building. So, I’ve had my department going through recent intel streams with a fine-tooth comb and, a few weeks back, one of my analysts came back with a finance connection. It got sent down the reporting channels, just like it’s supposed to. But everyone wrote it off as unworkable. But ‘everyone’ tends not to know what the hell they’re talking about, so I took the lead on myself. That’s what all this mess is doing here.”

Her focus wandering away from Reyna’s words, Annabeth’s eye was caught by a set of hanging files which sat in a crate behind Percy’s chair. Their labels were handwritten, and the folders were a patchwork of plain manila, colored paper and plastic portfolio. Everything else in the room was printed on standard Agency paper, separated by standard Agency file folders, stuck with standard Agency labelling and stuffed into standard Agency file boxes. Curious as to what might set this crate apart, Annabeth squinted to make out the labels.

_Montevideo, 1996._ She recognized that combination of city and year, as would anyone who had passed Three-Level History of Espionage. It would be hard to forget the catchy little rhyme which students drilled into each other’s minds before exam day, hoping to memorize the catalogue of weapons which had been stolen from the CIA secure facility in the largest breach of secure weapons’ technology in Agency history.

_Cairo 1974._ Annabeth didn’t remember the specifics, but she knew that particular hostage crisis was the source of countless conspiracy theories within the intelligence community.

_San Francisco, 2002._ Everyone knew what had happened in San Francisco, on the 4th of July in 2002. But not everyone knew that the “empty” airplane which had been hijacked was, in fact, carrying a man who made up half of a very important spy swap.

_Merritt Island, 1969._ The thickness alone of this folder belied the Agency administration’s constant refrain that there never was an incident at the Kennedy Space Center, and that any talk about Russian agents’ near sabotage of the Apollo 11 launch was pure intelligence community myth-making.

“…the more information I pulled out of our databases,” Reyna was saying. “The faster it all fit together. If I’m right about all this—which I believe I am—this is shaping up to be one of the biggest intelligence opportunities anyone in this building has ever seen.”

Annabeth’s mind churned. _It all fit together_ , Reyna had just said. _The biggest intelligence opportunity this building has seen_. She mentally ticked off the list of cities and dates.

_It can’t be,_ she thought. _There’s no way._ But there seemed to be a _way_ indeed, because as she squinted to make out the labels on the final few folders, what she read all but confirmed her growing theory. Reyna seemed far too rational for it to be true, but Annabeth could think of no other reason for those cities and dates to be in a box together, adorning the labels of non-agency files at a time like this.

“You’re talking about the Caddy Conspiracy, aren’t you?”

Annabeth hadn’t meant the words to come out in such an accusing tone, but she couldn’t help it. In the moment when she accepted the mission, she had finally allowed herself to believe that her dream of ten years was coming to fruition. She had believed she was going to get her chance to go out into the field and do what she had been training to do for so many years and had trusted that Reyna was holding that chance in the palm of her hand. But she must have let her hopes take hold too soon, because everyone knew that only crackpots and washed-up paranoiacs from the Cold War era believed in the Caddy Conspiracy.

Once again, Reyna’s eyes followed Annabeth’s. Her gaze settling on the crate of files, she seemed to understand Annabeth’s question. “I…I hadn’t planned on specifying in those words. But yes, I think these homicides are not just tied to money laundering. I think that, if we can get inside this case, we’ll be getting access to a whole lot more than cartels and corrupt bank executives. We’ll be getting right to heart of what the Caddies were always looking for.

Percy, having resumed with the takeout, had to cough through a too-large mouthful of noodles. “Am I supposed to know what we mean by _caddies_? Because something tells me we’re not talking about golf at the country club.”

“Not golf,” Reyna agreed. “Annabeth, could you explain to Percy? I want to hear what you know.”

Annabeth suddenly felt like she was treading on dangerous ground, but she could tell the question wasn’t much of a question. “Back in the sixties, when Cold War espionage was heating up, the Agency was ballooning with new departments being established every other week. Output was skyrocketing, but efficiency plummeted. Interdepartmental coordination was near impossible—targets were getting double teamed, there was constant accidental interference between missions. The…Percy? Are you even listening?”

Percy must have nearly exhausted the supply of take-out, because he had tipped back his head and was shaking the container over his mouth in an apparent effort to secure a final bite of stubborn, sticky noodles.

“Sixties. Cold War. Lots of departments. Got it,” Percy grinned. “Honestly, I’d hoped I would be done with history lessons after I dropped out of high school.”

Annabeth filed that piece of information away in the back of her brain. Percy being a high school dropout hardly clarified her murky understanding of his background; on the contrary, it piqued her interest. But she would have to leave that investigation for later.

“It’s important.” Annabeth’s tone was clearly exasperated. “With all this confusion, the Agency decided to form a new department. The Coordinated Affairs Department. The C-A-D. People started calling it the Caddy, and it stuck. The nickname came to be used a little…derogatorily…”

“A little?” Reyna raised her eyebrows.

“A lot,” Annabeth conceded. “You see, the CAD was made up of a small group of analysts who cross-referenced intelligence from all over the Agency. These analysts received some of the highest clearance in the building, and most people felt like they hadn’t earned it. Making cracks at the Caddies and their alleged uselessness was as mundanely common as talking about the weather. An agency-wide joke.”

“Field agents,” Reyna huffed. “They have no respect for analysts. Think no one’s earned their salt unless they’ve done it on the ground—as if even half of them have seen their share of real field work. Bitter operatives, rejected from the field and turned into low-level admins…they turned what could have been the most important intelligence discovery of the decade into a joke. With all the bureaucracy—the power of agency politics—no one can afford to take it seriously. But I do. The Caddies were right; I’m sure of it.”

“Right about what?” Percy asked.

Annabeth gave Reyna a sidelong glance. She looked completely serious—as rational and level-headed as ever, despite what was coming out of her mouth. It didn’t make any sense.

“There’s this conspiracy theory,” Annabeth said, not shying away from an emphasis on the word _conspiracy_. “That originated in the CAD. Those analysts, they thought they had discovered this grand scheme. A thread of connections between thousands of cases—historical and contemporary. The Caddies thought they uncovered a massive organization…a network of contractors, who pulled the strings behind countless acts of terrorism and acts of espionage, doing most of the heavy lifting and letting other groups and outfits take the credit in exchange for hefty sums. All of the incidents in that file crate…there are rumors connecting all of them to this network.”

“Okay.” Percy nodded, like he was getting the picture. “Like in that James Bond movie that came out a few years ago?

Annabeth frowned. “I can’t say I’ve seen any of those. Anyways, the Ca—”

“You’ve _never_ seen a James Bond movie?” Percy sounded incredulous. “Those movies are, like, _the_ spy movies.”

“I’ve been at the Academy, training to be an actual spy for eleven years,” Annabeth shot back.   
“They don’t leave a lot of time for watching movies. Which you would know, if you’d actually been there for more than three hours.”

Percy grinned—a very infuriating grin. “My enrollment is actually retroactive. I don’t really know what it means, but apparently I’m on the record as a student since the start of the school year. For computer reasons, or whatever.”

“Even if you’d actually been there, you’d have a month’s worth of training. Hardly enough for you to stumble through a brush pass.”

“It’s kind of weird that you guys start class in the middle of summer,” Percy said, ignoring most of Annabeth’s comment.

“We’re talking about a top-secret school for spies, Percy,” Annabeth said. “Starting during the summer is the least weird thing about it. What does that have to do with anything, anyways?”

“Nothing! I just thought it was weird. Who has their first day of school in July?”

Reyna cleared her throat. “The Academy starts in July because it’s the easiest month to covertly transport students to campus. So many Americans travel in July, it’s the easiest time of year to disguise travel plans. But that’s not particularly relevant to what we’re doing here. Annabeth—you were saying, about the Caddies…?”

“Oh, yeah, um…” It took Annabeth a moment to get her train of thought back on track. “So, the analysts in the CAD spent months putting together this report. They called in extra staff, clocked overtime seven days a week, and were apparently super uptight about security clearance and keeping their project under wraps. By the time the day of their closed-door presentation came around, the whole building was buzzing with speculation over whatever groundbreaking discovering must have been made.”

Annabeth glanced at Reyna, unsure what reaction to expect. If Reyna really did believe in the Caddy Conspiracy, Annabeth’s explanation would be veering into contentious territory. Reyna kept an even expression, though, as she nodded to indicate Annabeth should continue.

“But it turned out be nothing. The review committee didn’t take it seriously…how could they have? How could anyone believe that one organization would be deft or powerful enough to be behind half of the world’s most serious security threats in modern history? Like I said, it was a big conspiracy theory—a hodge-podge of overstretched connections blown way out of proportion. Most of the Caddies involved ended up getting demoted, some of them even lost their jobs. The reputation of the CAD never recovered, and the department was dissolved a few years later. Over the years, it’s become a sort of fringe legend, something you learn about, but never believe. The Caddy Conspiracy…an agency myth, passed down from veteran agents to new recruits and joked about over drinks at the bar.”

“But some people do believe it, right??” Percy asked, looking pointedly at Reyna.

“More than you might expect,” Reyna agreed. “Like Annabeth said, it’s considered an outlandish theory. No one who wants to continue their career in the agency would dare voice any support for it. But there are whispers. People who can see through the grandstanding, and push aside the bigshot egos, and don’t buy into the allegiance politics. Nothing has changed since the sixties. Back then, no one respected the analysts. No one wanted to be told by a group of lowly desk workers—who made such an easy, common target for ridicule—that they were all doing their jobs wrong. It was easier to believe that the Caddy report was a ludicrous, paranoid fantasy—"

“Because it was a ludicrous, paranoid fantasy!”

Annabeth bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to interject, but her frustration got the best of her. How could Chiron have been serious, telling her she was needed for an emergency mission and then pawning her off to indulge Reyna’s delusions?

Reyna stayed quiet for a moment, gazing at Annabeth, before responding. “Have you read it?”

“Have I…what?”

“Have you read the report?”

“Um…no. No, I haven’t.”

“I have. I’ve been researching it since I was a Two-Level at the Academy and could only get my hands on the redacted copy published in the library anthologies,” Reyna said. “My whole career, as I gained clearance and experience, I’ve been following trails and adding leads. What I’ve put together…I can’t show you. But it’s compelling. Compelling enough to convince the people I’ve trusted enough to share it with. Like Thor, the DCS. I’ve kept it very quiet; I’ve never been ready to stake my career on it. Not until now.”

Annabeth didn’t say anything. Reyna clearly wasn’t an idiot, and it was equally obvious how much she believed what she was telling them. But it was as if Reyna was trying to convince Annabeth she had seen the Loch Ness monster in the Hudson River—too ridiculous to believe.

“Annabeth, I know what you’re thinking right now. I must be completely insane,” Reyna said.  
“But think about it. I’m 23 years old. I’ve been stationed around the world. I’m the youngest department head in agency history. And this is a very important department. Do you really think I would have gotten this far, this quickly, in my career if I was crazy?”

Annabeth had walked into this building expecting to have to earn Reyna’s approval, not the other way around. But, through the intensity of Reyna’s gaze, a note of pleading was unmistakable in the words of her question. Reyna evidently needed Annabeth to trust her.

“To be honest? Yes.” Annabeth hoped she wasn’t reading Reyna wrong, and that she would appreciate her being frank rather than deferring to Reyna’s superiority. “You know as well as I do that if you’re going to succeed in the espionage world, you have to be a little crazy.”

She paused before committing to what she was about to say. It wasn’t the conclusion she had expected to reach but, in that moment, she found herself coming to believe it. “Then again…I’m also in espionage, and I intend to succeed. So I guess I have to be a little crazy too. I can’t be sure about this whole Caddy thing, not yet. But if you say there’s something bigger going on with these homicides, I trust you. I said I was _in_ before…that stands. I’ll follow the leads and see what happens.”

“ _We_ will follow the leads and see what happens,” Percy interjected. “I don’t know anything about this CAD-whatever, but the only reason I got brought in here to do whatever it is you’re asking us to do, so I’m sure it’s important. But I still don’t really understand what this all has to do with us.”

“Thank you, Annabeth. Your trust is all I need.” Reyna’s face had relaxed into a smile—the first genuine one of the afternoon. “And you’re right, Percy. We’ve gotten a little sidetracked. As I told you, our department found a lead that connects everything together. We came across a financial discrepancy in the bank statements of a private boarding school in Central New York, and it was tied to a flagged account number. We think that someone is funneling money from the school treasury to support the organization behind the homicides. And, as you know, I think this organization is much bigger than a money-laundering ring. After months of failed attempts, we finally have our in. That’s why you both are here.”

Reyna picked up two folders from her desk and handed one each to Percy and Annabeth. “These are your mission files. Read them; understand them; memorize them. You’ll need to know this information back to front, because you’re going undercover—deep cover. Because this operation is…unconventional, its authorization is coming straight from the DCS. We have to keep it buried, so once you’re in the field, the support I can give you will be very limited. You’ll be pretty much on your own. Between other agencies, foreign entities and our targets, there are too many players out there to risk blowing your covers by keeping in contact. I know I’ve said this, but it will be dangerous. This is your final chance to back out. Once I tell you where you’re headed, there’s no going back.”

Annabeth, for the third time, had the same answer. This time, with no hesitation. “I’m ready for it, whatever it is.”

“If I’m being honest,” Percy said. “I’m probably not ready for it. I don’t even know what ‘it’ is, or why exactly you government people want _me_ doing it. But I’m down.”

Reyna nodded. “Well then, congratulations. I’m looking at Harper Hill Preparatory School’s two newest students.”

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a glance, then looked back at Reyna.

“You’re sending us to high school?”

“You know I was being serious when I said I never passed high school English, right?”

“I know, I told you it was unconventional,” Reyna said. “We’ve been trying to get our agents into the school as teachers or staff members for months, but we finally realized our only option was to send students. That’s why we are pulling you both for this mission—obviously, none of our real agents are young enough to be high school juniors. As far as the school is concerned, you both are regular transfer students. The backstories we used for your applications are in your files. This will be an intel-gathering operation. Your jobs are to get close to suspects, poke around for information, and figure out what connects the local crime to the bigger picture. I have no idea how long this op will be active…it could be the entire school year, or even the next. Or we could pull you out before Thanksgiving.”

Percy frowned. “Before exam week would be preferable.”

“It could be so, if you solve the case before then,” Reyna replied. “Let that be your motivation to do your jobs exceptionally well. The school year begins on August 31, so we have a little over a week and a half to prepare. While both of you were selected for this mission because Mr. Brunner and I believe you have the necessary skills, there’s some work to do before you’re ready. Over the next few days, I’m going to be grilling you on your covers, helping you get familiar with our equipment, and going over our communication protocols.”

Reyna checked her watch.

“I have a meeting in half an hour. We’ll get started this afternoon. In the meantime, you should start working through your mission files. Try to have your legends memorized by dinner.”

Annabeth was struck by how matter-of-fact it all was. In just a few minutes, Reyna had confided in them enormously clandestine intelligence and told them they would be going into deep cover for an almost-black secret operation. Now, she was leaving them with the task of studying their new lives like it was math homework.

_Math homework._ Annabeth grimaced at the realization that, starting in a week, she would have to do math homework. She wasn’t bad with numbers, but something about going to a spy school where the homework is poison neutralization and disguise manipulation makes precalculus packets seem a bit dull.

At the same time, though, she had a feeling the coming months at Harper Hill Preparatory School would be anything but dull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending author’s note: Whew! I told you it was long winded. Anyways, now that we all suffered through that, we can get on to the fun parts of the story. I promise that chapters-to-come will not be several thousand words of exposition. I totally had to reference Spectre (the James Bond movie) because, as I was explaining my plot to a sibling she was like “oh, like spectre?” and I realized she was totally right, and that was not my intention but it’s a good parallel all the same and I felt like referencing it would help explain what I struggled to put into words. ALSO, please excuse my not-so-subtle, preemptive patching of future timeline issues (ie…an irrelevant conversation point about school starting in July); like I said, I’m not very good at planning. Anyways, I’m excited to get rolling with the parts of the story that I’ve been thinking about for literal YEARS. I fully intend to actually update this time, so we will see what happens. On a final note, I would love some feedback on my characterization if you have any. I have had a really hard time nailing down how to portray Annabeth and Percy (especially thru dialogue. My weakness); I’m not sure why, but I never feel like I’m getting it right. So, if you have notes or want to point out something that seems off, PLS let me know. I will be very grateful and appreciate the constructive criticism (on that topic, or any feedback! I’m always looking to improve 😊)  
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope to see you back soon for the next chapter!


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